


Dreaming With Dark Lords

by Mad_Mandy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Gay Male Character, Gay Sex, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Male Homosexuality, Mentor Gellert Grindelwald, Mentor/Protégé, Protégé Harry Potter, Romance, Seer Albus Dumbledore, Seer Gellert Grindelwald, Seer Harry Potter, Seer Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-27
Packaged: 2019-03-13 04:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13563195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Mandy/pseuds/Mad_Mandy
Summary: Harry is plagued with a series of reoccurring dreams that culminate in the meeting of a beautiful stranger locked away in a freezing and forgotten prison. Harry learns some extraordinary facts that irrevocably shatter his world views. Harry was never meant to kill Voldemort and Dumbledore has been keeping secrets again.





	1. Chapter 1

Harry dreamed he was walking upstairs again, in an upward spiral that seemed endless. He had found himself walking up these same stairs many times before without ever reaching any destination. It was a reoccurring dream and it was _maddening_.

Hermione had, of course, read a few books on the meanings of dreams and she seemed to think the dream was symbolic of his struggles in his waking hours to meet the unrealistic and unobtainable expectations that the wizarding world had for him. She said that his unconscious mind interpreted his feelings into something like climbing a staircase without ever reaching the top. It was a classic psychological metaphor.

Harry personally thought that explanation was a load of crap but he hadn’t had the heart to tell Hermione that - she’d been so pleased with herself for puzzling it out.

Tonight, however, the dream felt different in some way that Harry could not quite put his finger on - crisper, perhaps, or more _real_. This time there was a strong draft and it blew right through him. He felt the cold in his bones. He continued up the stairs out of habit, not expecting the dream to play out any differently than usual.

But then he heard it - a low, wordless humming that made his skin prickle and his hair stand on end. He took off at a sprint up the stairs before he had even decided to run. Abruptly he stumbled out onto a landing and fell flat to the floor, only barely getting his hands up in time to keep his head from smacking into the ice-frosted stone.

The humming stopped and an unfamiliar voice said, “It has been a very long time since I have had a guest.”

Harry’s head snapped up and he watched a shockingly handsome young man stand and move close to the line of iron bars that divided the circular room. The stranger stared straight through him. His bizarre violet eyes were piercing in intensity and so much older than the man appeared. Harry remained frozen where he was, trying to wrap his mind around this abrupt shift in his dream. The man smiled very slowly and said knowingly, “Ah, you must be _Harry Potter_. I have dreamed of you before but never have I had the pleasure of seeing or speaking to you in person. What a grand _treat!”_

“ _This_ is a dream,” Harry replied, his voice strained.

The man chuckled, violet eyes shimmering with profound amusement, “Indeed it is. That doesn’t mean it isn’t real. You are a Seer. The nature of our kind does not allow for the traditional sort of fanciful dreaming. When most people think of how things might be, they invent possibilities. When Seers think of what could be, what we see is typically not a product of imagination.”

“So this is the future,” Harry said, sitting upright and crossing his legs.

“No, this a dream,” the man replied, leaning against the bars now, his long fingers wrapped about the cold, iced steel. He continued on cheerfully, “Your dreams just _happen_ to parallel reality. There are two types of people who are considered Seers, Harry. Individuals from the larger group of the two are called Vessels. They are called thus because they are so weak of mind and spirit they can be easily manipulated by outside forces. These people do not _actually_ _see_ , but they can parrot prophecies - like Sybill, who teaches at your school.”

It was hard to focus when it was so bitterly cold. Harry didn’t know how the purple-eyed man was so unaffected by it. Harry rubbed his arms, wishing he was wearing a coat instead of his pajamas. With that thought, he was suddenly fully dressed in his warmest clothes. Harry was distracted briefly by this phenomenon then he quickly wrote it off as dream-weirdness. He asked the stranger, “Do you know Professor Trelawney?”

The man shook his head once, “I have never met her. As I was saying, there are the Vessels and then there are the Sighted, like you and me. The Sighted are the only _true_ Seers, in my opinion, but that is only my opinion.” 

“Well, what makes us Sighted?” Harry questioned curiously, humoring the dream man. 

“ _Power_ , Harry,” the prisoner replied simply with a slight, wistful smile playing across his full lips. His eerie eyes shifted to the thin windows that surrounded the room, staring out into the bright white beyond. The frigid wind pushed his pale, wavy hair into his eyes and he pushed it away with a distracted flourish of his long and graceful fingers.

Harry demanded suddenly, “Who are you and _why_ are you behind those bars?”

The answer hadn’t mattered before but it mattered now. Harry was feeling a vague but nagging twinge of unease and he suspected there might be real-world consequences for whatever happened in this so-called dream. Those violet eyes turned back to Harry, fixing intently upon him once more and revealing a hint of surprise and also a mischievous delight, “Those are _very_ good questions. Perhaps _you_ can answer them.”

Harry had no patience for riddles or mind games and he frowned in irritation, “I wouldn’t have asked if I knew the answers.”

“You asked out of habit and because you know no other way of getting answers. All the knowledge in the world is at your fingertips, Harry. If you want to know me, then _know_ me. Expand your horizons and insert yourself beneath my skin.”

The man smirked and his white lashes lowered in a coy, sultry fashion. There was a devilish, not-quite-sane amusement shining within his eyes as he added lowly, “ _Fuck_ me without _touching_ me, Harry.”

Harry went beet-red in the face, absolutely scandalized, “I can’t- I mean, _I won’t!_ Bloody hell, why won’t you just _tell_ me?”

“Why won’t you _just look_?” The stranger replied mockingly, straightening and turning away, then walking over to a low stone bench and lying down. “I can only suppose you do not want to know all that badly.” 

Harry stared at the man as he laid there, eyes closed and handsome face peaceful - as if he was done talking to Harry and he actually intended to take a nap.

Harry stood slowly and walked closer until he was standing just before the bars. He set aside his anger and wondered how to go about touching someone without actually touching them. He stared hard at the object of his frustrations for a long moment, then, inspiration struck him suddenly. It was not in his nature to pause long enough to think things through so, he didn’t. He felt for the magic pulsing within him and cast it out like he would for a spell, thrusting it forcefully at the damnable, all-knowing blonde.

Blinding light flared with a deafening crack and the tower shook on its foundation with a sound like distant thunder. The prisoner’s eyes snapped wide open and he stared at Harry with an expression of genuine shock.

Harry stared back at him, a lifetime of memories flaring and dying behind his eyes. It was all much too sudden and too vast to comprehend consciously, but… the man was no longer a stranger to Harry. Harry murmured, “Gellert Grendelwald. Before Voldemort you were the most feared Dark Lord in our world. Professor Dumbledore defeated you.” 

Gellert’s violet eyes shuttered and Harry was cut off, but he’d already seen everything. Harry continued hesitantly, “You are immortal, _truly_ immortal, and that is why you are locked up here. It was the most they could do. You… Dumbledore was your _lover_.”

Harry’s lip curled a bit with disgust as he processed that unexpected and unwelcome revelation. Harry could not help but to imagine the elderly headmaster he knew having sex and it was a decidedly unpleasant image that his imagination conjured up for him.

However, deep within the recesses of Harry’s mind, there was a foreign memory that surfaced now - one of a significantly younger version of Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him only because of his iconic, sparkling blue eyes. Those familiar eyes were filled with love and need as they looked up at Gellert Grindelwald.

Gellert closed his eyes tightly but Harry felt his pain. The man whispered quietly, “Yes, Harry, he was.”

“What happened?” Harry murmured, trying to understand what he’d seen.

Gellert’s gaze turned distant and dull, “Albus chose the world over me.”

Harry had never experienced such profound heartbreak and hoped he never would.

Those violet eyes sharpened as they snapped to Harry, “Will you follow in his footsteps, I wonder? As Albus was my match in every way, so too is Tom Riddle yours. You alone have the power to destroy him. Will you?” 

“He… is _evil_ ,” Harry said uncertainly, scrambling mentally to fit what he had just been told into his fixed and narrow views of the wizarding world. He could not.

“You will know no greater love than his in your lifetime,” Gellert replied, with perfect certainty. “Evil and good are relative terms. Love, however, is not. Love is absolute.” 

“Then why did Dumbledore choose what he thought to be good over you?”

Gellert closed his eyes again, but only briefly, “You will understand, if you know Albus long enough, that he is very naive in some respects - his views on good and evil, for one. Albus sees everything in black and white. In his mind, black can never be white nor can white be black and there is no such thing as grey. I sought to burn this world to the ground and build it up anew - a stronger, _better_ world. Albus believes that even if the current system of government is hopelessly flawed it is still worth protecting. He believes that any loss of life is an unacceptable loss, except when it is unavoidable for the greater good of all. He is an idealist and a dreamer.”

Gellert paused in his tangent and shook his head, “But what was between Albus and I, is between Albus and I. _You_ should think about your relationship with Riddle.”

“What _relationship_?” Harry demanded incredulously. “The one where he keeps trying to kill me and I end up thwarting and/or killing him instead?”

Gellert was unfazed. “He, like you, is a Seer who was never taught to properly utilize his gift of Sight. It is a skill and like all skills it must be learned and it must be practiced. Albus is the only other Sighted Seer in this country that I know of and he likes to keep his cards close to his chest. He may be firmly entrenched in his ideals but he is a man who knows the value of knowledge. He doles out information only when it benefits him to do so and he likes to stay at least ten steps ahead of everyone else. He truly believes that no one in this world knows better than him. _That_ is his fatal flaw.”

It seemed to Harry that Gellert could not help but to talk about Dumbledore. Harry didn’t blame him, knowing what he now knew, but he tired to get the man to focus once more with a gentle prompt, “You mean Voldemort doesn’t know what I could be to him.”

“Precisely. Forgive me, I do tend to ramble on dreadfully. A consequence of too much time spent alone, I think. Isolation is bad for _anyone’s_ sanity,” Gellert trailed off but then his demeanor brightened once more and he questioned hopefully, “Speaking of which, perhaps I could prevail upon you to free me, Harry?”

Those violet eyes gleamed malevolently in the half light that had fallen suddenly in the wake of Harry’s magic. Harry hadn’t noticed before but his excess of expelled magic seemed to have seeded a storm within the dream. Thunder growled lowly outside and Harry felt the vibration of it in the floor beneath his feet.

Harry replied cautiously, “Even if I wanted to, this is _only_ a dream.”

“One day, years in the future, it _will_ be within your power to free me,” Gellert replied with certainty. “If you are willing to consider doing so, I am willing to share my knowledge with you in return.”

“You are willing to do that for only the _chance_ of freedom?” Harry questioned. He was more than a little skeptical.

Gellert shrugged, faking an air of nonchalance, “I am immortal. I _will_ be free one day, it is only a question of _when_. Considering that it is entirely uncertain as to whether or not you may decide to free me in the future, and I have no way of compelling you to do so… Well, presently it is your _company_ that would be most valuable to me.”

Lightening struck the ground beside the tower and the ensuing roar startled Harry enough to wake him from his dream before he was ready. He still felt chilled, even though he was twisted up in a thick cocoon of warm blankets. His hands and his face were ice cold - just as they had been in his dream.


	2. Chapter 2

Another night, and yet another dream of Nurmengard.

Harry found himself on the stairs again in the frozen tower, but this time, he was at the top of the stairs, staring into Gellert Grendelwald’s cell. Gellert lay on the stone bench, and there really wasn’t anything else in the room. Just Gellert and the bench and the bars that kept the Dark Lord prisoner. He looked as if he was sleeping but when Harry looked closer, he could see that a layer of frost covered Gellert’s skin and clothes.

Harry was certain that the man was dead.

He rushed forward before he could think better of it. His bare feet slipped and slid on the icy black stone. He had to grab the freezing metal bars of the cell to prevent a painful collision. He fumbled for a moment before he was able to get his feet firmly planted underneath him. He made a _lot_ of noise.

Gellert’s violet eyes snapped open and blinked quickly to clear the flecks of ice on his pale lashes. His gaze fixed on Harry and he grinned - the movement cracking more of the ice on his face. He sat up quickly, his frosted clothes crunching as he moved. Gellert rubbed a hand over his face then stood and stretched.

“What a pleasant surprise!” Gellert said cheerfully. “I was not sure you would decide to return.”

Harry stepped back from the bars, moving slowly and carefully now to avoid slipping again. He was unnerved by Gellert. The man seemed even more inhuman now than he had last time. Harry muttered warily, “I _didn’t_ decide to return.”

Gellert chuckled, “Well, perhaps not _consciously_ , but if you are here, it is because you _want_ to be. It is not as if I could compel you to come - though I certainly would if I could. I like your company. You’re an amusing child.”

“What is wrong with you?” Harry said quietly, staring at the remnants of ice that still lingered on Gellert’s fair and flawless skin. “Aren’t you cold? The uh, frost… I get that you’re somehow immortal and I guess you _must_ be invulnerable too, but how can you stand it?”

Gellert blinked like a bird then smiled again, cooing, “Oh aren’t you a sweet child.”

Harry bristled indignantly at Gellert’s tone but Gellert ignored him and cast a pointed look down at Harry’s pajamas and his bare feet, “I’m doing just fine, but _you_ seem cold, Harry. I can see that you’re practically shivering already. I think it is _very_ interesting that you would choose to be cold in your own dream. We should talk about that. Can you tell me why you’re feeling cold? Do you even know?” 

Harry frowned, then he remembered how his clothes had changed last time when he had thought about it. Sure enough, just recalling that memory now was enough to prompt a repeat occurrence. He was fully dressed and wearing his winter cloak and scarf. He tried an experiment next. He wished for mittens - specifically the mittens Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him and that he’d misplaced last winter. The worn red mittens popped into existence covering his cold-numbed fingers. He wished for a ridiculously fluffy, fur-lined winter hat like Neville’s and that appeared as well. It was just as warm on Harry’s head as he had imagined. It was fun really, like performing magic without a wand or spells or even hand gestures.

Gellert’s amusement increased exponentially as he watched Harry. The beautiful Dark Lord even walked over to the bars so he could get a better look at what Harry was doing. Harry glanced up at him when he noticed the movement from the peripheral of his vision. Gellert was as graceful as ever, _despite_ all of the slick ice beneath his shiny leather boots.

Harry really hadn’t been paying enough attention last time and now he wondered - had Gellert moved just as easily then too? The man was unerringly graceful but he _shouldn’t_ have been able to move about as easily as he was. Harry realized then, when he focused on Gellert’s face, that the man was biting his lower lip to keep from laughing.

Harry really didn’t see what was so funny.

“What?” Harry demanded, glancing down at himself to take in his handiwork once more. “I’m fully dressed now! Isn’t that what you meant before? That I could change my clothes like I did last time?”

“Harry,” Gellert said slowly, drawing out his name, “You are dreaming about a real place but your physical body isn’t here. Right now you’re _pretending_ that you’re cold because you think you should be. Forgive me but it’s quite funny.”

“What are you talking about? It’s freezing here. I was even cold when I woke up last time. It’s affecting my real body somehow.”

The smile was wiped from Gellert’s face immediately and it unnerved Harry. It happened so quickly it was hard to say, after the fact, if the Dark Lord had ever actually been amused. Gellert’s violet eyes held slightly manic intensity as they stared at Harry. Gellert spoke with grave and uncharacteristic seriousness as he said, “ _You’re_ affecting your real body, Harry, and if you’re not careful, it could get you into _real_ trouble. Unconscious interactions between your magic and your mind are extremely dangerous when left unchecked. If you convince yourself, for example, that you’ve sustained some mortal injury in one of these dreams then you could end up unintentionally killing your physical body. So, your first lesson, will be learning to guard yourself against such an unfortunate and avoidable end.”

“How?” Harry demanded, with more than a little panic. “I’m not _meaning_ to make myself feel cold or… _anything_ else! How do I stop myself from doing something I don’t even know I’m doing?”

Gellert’s expression remained very serious, “Occlumency, of course.”

Harry groaned explosively, “I’m _shit_ at Occlumency!”

He ran his hands through his hair in frustration, trying not to freak out - there had to be another solution. Gellert seemed very skeptical, “You’re _bad_ at it? Are you sure you’ve _tried_ it?”

“Yes!” Harry shouted, sounding more hysterical than he meant to. “I tried for months and I never got any better at it! It was just failure after failure.”

“No, I don’t see how that can be true,” Gellert replied with perfect certainty. “You’re proficient in Legilimency and that’s more difficult than Occlumency.”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Harry demanded impatiently.

Gellert rolled his eyes, starting to look a little irritated, “Harry, _what_ is Legilimency?”

“Reading other people’s minds,” Harry replied through gritted teeth, just as irritated.

Gellert was silent. He was just staring at Harry unblinkingly and waiting. It hit Harry then and he felt like a complete and utter dunderhead. He’d read Gellert’s mind last time he’d seen the man. He just hadn’t thought of it like legilimency because it’d been on an entirely different level than anything he’d experienced before. When Snape performed legilimency, he only had limited access to Harry’s immediate thoughts and prominent memories.

With Gellert, Harry had seen _everything_. It had happened so fast but it had left him with the persistent and disconcerting feeling that he _knew_ the man. Gellert felt as familiar to Harry as if he’d known him his entire life. As if the Dark Lord was an old friend he hadn’t seen in a while or a member of Harry’s extended family.

It created an eerie disconnect in Harry’s mind because his _conscious_ mind was aware that Harry didn’t _actually_ know Gellert at all. So Harry tried to focus on the fact that he didn’t know Gellert rather than focusing on the foreign knowledge that was still somewhat accessible within his own mind. It’d been too overwhelming to attempt to comprehend so he’d really tried not to, in an effort to protect himself.

Harry whispered, “What I did to you was more than Legilimency. It was a mistake. I… I shouldn’t have seen everything like that. It shouldn’t have even been possible.”

Gellert’s expression relaxed and he grinned once again, satisfied with Harry’s small breakthrough in understanding, “It’s perfectly within the abilities of people like us. Your magic is powerful and so is your mind.”

“You’re like me so shouldn’t you have been able to stop me? With Occlumency?”

“I didn’t try,” Gellert replied with a shrug. “To be perfectly honest with you, Harry, I didn’t think you’d be so successful. Your mind is working against you in many ways right now, but it’s also been helping you in some ways. You have the raw magical power to do whatever you believe yourself capable of. I mean that quite literally too. You believed you could use your magic to know me, right? So you did it, without realizing that you were performing a level of legilimency that you previously thought impossible. You think you can’t do Occlumency and so, you can’t, but you’re perfectly capable of it.”

“Wanting things to be different than they are has never changed anything for me in my real life,” Harry replied, subduedly. “Wishing _isn’t_ a solution.”

Gellert studied Harry for a moment then he walked over to one of the windows on his side of the room. He said, “Harry, last time you were here, your unintentionally created a storm with your excess magic. It wasn’t _just_ in the dream. You’re dreaming of a real place and in the real world, you created a blizzard that raged for days outside of my prison and inconvenienced me quite greatly.”

Harry wasn’t sure he could believe that. He said uncertainly, “How would it inconvenience you?”

“I have to expend a great deal of magic to keep my body alive, Harry. Your blizzard dropped the temperature significantly lower than usual and I had to use magic I couldn’t spare to protect my body and also to put an end to your storm.”

“I just… I don’t really understand. I’m sorry,” Harry replied weakly. He felt a little lightheaded now and he decided he’d be better off sitting down. He took a seat on the frozen ground - it felt _cold_ and he had no idea how to go about changing that. He wished that he didn’t feel the cold but he still felt it. All of this was beyond his limited understanding of what was possible.

Gellert remained by the window but he kept talking, seemingly more to himself than to Harry. The Dark Lord seemed almost sad as he said, “This prison… it’s not just a prison. It’s supposed to be my tomb. What keeps me here aren’t those bars you see. Albus separated my soul from my body and then he placed a seal upon my body, to keep my from soul returning. My body - my _real_ body - has not moved from that stone slab since Albus placed me there upon it, many decades ago. If you look hard enough, you’ll see.”

Harry’s gaze slowly turned from Gellert to look at the bench. Only, it had always looked rather strange, for a bench. It was a single slab of stone. Like something a corpse or coffin would be laid out on in days long past. A burial slab.

As Harry stared, the scene shifted slightly, and Harry _could_ see Gellert’s body, still laying on that stone. The clothes his body wore were faded and sun-bleached. He looked as healthy and young as the apparition standing by the window but there was a thick layer of ice and even some snow covering the body.

Gellert continued on, even more quietly now, “Do you know what ghosts really are? In moments of great emotional upheaval, like the event of a sudden and unexpected death… sometimes the soul feels such a disconnect that it is briefly separated from the body. Our magic and our mind form our soul, Harry. Two parts of the same whole. However, it is our bodies that serve to _generate_ our magic. When body and soul are working together properly, our magic is potentially endless. Once a soul is separate form its body, it is living a half-life and its magic is finite. A ghost is a soul without a body. As a ghost’s magic fades… so do they.”

Gellert’s graceful hands rose to rest on the windowsill, stoking the stone and then gripping it with white-knuckled strength as he said, “Albus made a _living ghost_ of me. I can still affect my body, enough to keep it alive, but I cannot return to it and I cannot draw additional strength from it. My body hasn’t tasted food or drink in so many years… it should have long since died of starvation or dehydration. With my magic I’ve preserved it in a kind of stasis. With my magic, I can keep my heart beating and my lungs drawing in breath. Even if my body were strong enough to produce magic, and it is not, I am incapable of accessing it.”

Harry realized that the Gellert who lay on the stone was indeed breathing, but very slowly and very shallowly. Gellert gave a harsh laugh and he said, “The crux of the matter is my great secret to immortality was _dependent_ upon my magic, Harry. In this state I can only continue to sustain my body for so long. Centuries from now, I _will_ eventually run out of magic and fade into the void. Only then will my body die - the _reverse_ of a true ghost’s fate. Isn’t it incredible? How cruel my Albus can be to someone he once professed to love above all else? How _dare_ he call _me_ the monster!”

Gellert’s voice broke on what sounded like a sob. Harry gaped at the fair-haired man, shocked to see that Gellert’s shoulders were shaking. The Dark Lord _was_ _crying_.

Gellert was still grief-stricken, all these years later. Harry could actually feel it - like a smothering kind of damp wet within his own chest. He remembered something then. Flashes of some terrible memory, that was not his own, flickered to life before his eyes.

Albus had been behind Gellert, making love to him, when he had pressed his wand against the base of Gellert’s skull and tearfully whispered the killing curse. Gellert’s soul had been thrown from his body violently and it’d left him reeling. He’d watched in a stunned daze as Albus drew away from him, laid him down gently and closed his violet eyes. It had been in that moment that Gellert had finally realized what had happened to him and he had used an extraordinary amount of magic to restart his own heart and force his chest to rise. Gellert’s body had convulsed and gasped. Gellert tried to force his way back into his body immediately after but his every attempt had been repelled. It was only then he had seen the collar that had been fitted in place around his neck.

The feelings associated with that memory physically hurt Harry. He realized belatedly that he was crying too.

He didn’t know how to reconcile what he knew about Albus and what he knew about Gellert. Gellert wasn’t evil - Harry knew that _for_ _certain._ He tried his best to accept that simple certainty without examining it too closely because he knew that if he _did_ try to figure it out then he would only get lost in Gellert’s memories again. 

Harry focused instead on what Gellert had been trying to tell him in the beginning. In that memory he had felt how Gellert had cast out his magic to affect the real world when he had been only a spirit. Harry thought he understood now what the man had been trying to tell him before he’d gotten caught up talking about Albus again.

Harry called up a few more memories of the way Gellert used his magic to enact real and incredible changes in the world around him. His most impressive magic didn’t use spells or wands - just the indomitable force of his own will. It wasn’t some subtle and infinitely complicated concept. It was actually very simple. It was all about reaching outside of yourself and believing _absolutely_ that you can do _whatever the fuck you want_.

Once upon a time, Harry hadn’t been able to conjure a corporeal Patronus until he realized that he’d already done it. Experiencing how it felt to be Gellert performing magic, it felt exactly like what Harry had done with the accidental legilimency. Harry had a weird sense of quasi deja vu, where he could _see_ what he was _about_ to do and he felt like he’d already done it before he actually did.

The collar encircling Gellert’s neck shattered into a thousand pieces and exploded away from his body.

When Gellert turned from the window, his handsome face was still streaked with tears but he was grinning so widely that Harry could see all of the teeth in his mouth. Harry could also see that the man was not even _slightly_ surprised.

If freeing Gellert Grindelwald was a mistake, it was much too late now for regrets. Gellert threw himself at his body… and made himself whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh-oh. Well, now you know how Gellert was imprisoned and you probably understand how he keeps himself young and artificially extends his life too. Seems like Gellert played Harry like a fiddle, huh? He’s a Dark Lord for a reason.
> 
> In case you’re confused, Gellert’s “cure for mortality” is not perfect - it relies more upon brute magical strength than finesse, though there’s plenty of finesse too. Gellert definitely wouldn’t have been able to continue on as he was much longer so he’s been trying to hide how desperate he actually was for Harry’s help. His tendency towards giddy excitement was mostly because he was almost certain about how things were going to play out with Harry. Harry is at a serious disadvantage for now, until he learns to fully utilize his Sight. 
> 
> The question is, why didn’t Albus - a fully skilled and accomplished Sighted Seer - see this coming? It’s the same reason Gellert didn’t see Albus’s betrayal coming.
> 
> In this story, most witches and wizards aren’t capable of using magic the way Gellert, Albus, Harry and Tom can. There will be more to come about seeing the future and more peculiarities of the Sighted, like the way they can use magic.
> 
> What do you think Gellert will do now that he’s free?


	3. Chapter 3

Gellert sat bolt upright, drawing in a huge gasping breath and clutching at his chest. Red-rimmed eyes fixed on Harry, who was standing on the other side of the bars, gaping at him. Gellert chuckled roughly and whispered hoarsely, “Thank you, sweet child, I am greatly indebted to you.”

All of Harry’s bold confidence was currently circling the metaphorical drain. He whispered, “You _knew_ I was going to free you. You were _manipulating_ me.”

The ice was melting off of Gellert and then evaporating into steam. With an impatient flick of his hand, Gellert restored his faded, tattered clothes to their former fine quality.

He shrugged languidly in response to Harry’s accusations, “Guilty as charged. Try not to take it too personally, Harry, my life was at stake. I still plan on honoring my half of our bargain. I’m going to teach you everything I know. You’re learning already, aren’t you? If you pay attention, eventually I won’t be _able_ to manipulate you anymore.”

Harry wanted to be outraged but Gellert seemed so genuinely happy and guileless now that it was somewhat difficult to be upset with him. Harry found himself confused about what to feel and he just stood there dumbly, watching Gellert. The newly restored Dark Lord vanished the bars of his cell as easily as he’d fixed his clothes. A fancy mahogany dinning table, two overstuffed velvet chairs, and formal table settings appeared out of thin air next. A tantalizing feast appeared immediately after.

Gellert practically waltzed across the room, grabbing a chair and pulling it out with a gallant flourish, “Won’t you join me, Harry?”

The ice in the room was gone and the air had warmed significantly, chasing away any trace of chill. Even the sun seemed to shine brighter outside.

Harry reluctantly moved closer, vanishing his own cloak, hat and gloves. It was too warm in the room for winter clothes now. He sat down gingerly in the proffered chair. Gellert bent at the waist, purring lowly by Harry’s ear, “ _Thank you_ for humoring me.”

Harry jerked away, looking up at Gellert with wide, startled eyes. Gellert ignored his reaction, walking around the table and taking the seat across from Harry.

“I’m absolutely ravenous!” Gellert declared enthusiastically. “How about you?”

“I’m dreaming. I don’t think I’m hungry.” Harry managed uncertainly.

“Suit yourself,” Gellert replied mildly, his good mood completely unaffected. He placed his napkin across his lap and ate quickly but not without good manners. He used all the proper utensils and his movements were perfectly graceful.

Harry found himself staring again, rather against his will. Gellert was captivating. Harry hadn’t ever really thought much about his own sexuality, but he’d never been this attracted to any of the girls at Hogwarts. Or the boys, for that matter. He knew he had greater concerns right now but he was having a hard time remembering what those concerns were. It was almost as if Gellert was exerting some sort of influence over him and drawing him in. Harry could almost feel the pull, now that he was thinking about it, but he couldn’t quite figure out what was going on.

Gellert glanced up at Harry from beneath his pale lashes, a faint smirk pulling at his lips. He ate slowly and very deliberately, wrapping his mouth around a dessert spoon and drawing it out from between his lips in a way that was _unmistakably_ suggestive. Harry scowled at him and tore his eyes away, blushing with embarrassment. He wished Gellert wouldn’t tease him so much.

Harry stared hard at the windows, trying to focus on the outside world and wondering why he was even staying here. It occurred to him that he could leave if he wanted to. He didn’t know how to wake himself up but that didn’t mean he had to stay with Gellert.

Why did he feel like he had to stay? He _didn’t_ have to.

Gellert chuckled and murmured cajolingly, “ _Harry_.”

“What,” Harry muttered, trying to keep his focus on the snowy mountains clearly visible outside. He could go see what was beyond this tower. If he could do anything then maybe he could fly without a broom. If not, he could definitely _make_ a broom. He’d fly to the top of that mountain and see how small the rest of the world looked from there.

“Oh don’t pout, Harry, aren’t we having fun? You kindly saved me and now we’re having a lovely meal together. Things aren’t so bad, are they? You don’t _want_ to leave yet.”

Harry reluctantly looked at Gellert again, but his thoughts lingered on the mountain peak. There was something strange happening and Harry was sure he’d figure it out if he could just manage to _clear his head_.

Gellert had paused in eating. He was watching Harry with his head cocked slightly to the side. His violet eyes were fixed on Harry unerringly, without even blinking. When Harry met his gaze once more Gellert smiled and seemed to relax marginally. Gellert winked playfully, “You know, you might be less tense if you lost your virginity. I could help you with that, if you want. I’m a very generous lover. I guarantee you’d enjoy it.”

“No!” Harry sputtered immediately, turning red again, “Would you stop _teasing_ me?”

“Well, I wasn’t teasing, actually, but I suppose your Tom might eventually come to hold it against me if I laid with you before he has the chance to.” Gellert seemed to mull this over seriously for a moment, as if weighing the potential risks against a tempting reward.

“My Tom? He’s _not_ my Tom and in case you’ve forgotten, ‘the greatest love of my life’ still wants to _murder_ me.”

Gellert waved his hand dismissively, “Yes, well, I certainly wouldn’t recommend apparating in front of the man and asking him for a fuck _right now_. No, you should make use of the _bond_ you already share with him. Seek him out as you would seek out me. Then listen with an open mind and figure out for yourself what sort of man he is.” 

Gellert paused then added, rather seriously, “As a caveat, please wait until _after_ you figure out how to protect yourself when you’re dreaming. It’d be such a shame if you died. I’m very fond of you already.”

Harry shifted in his chair, uneasy at the reminder of his vulnerability, “You said I needed Occlumency.”

“Not to worry, child, we’ll practice plenty,” Gellert replied. “A few more dreams and you’ll be ready to start getting to know your Tom.”

“He is _not_ my Tom,” Harry insisted.

“Mmhm, of course he isn’t,” Gellert replied patronizingly, seeming distracted suddenly. “It’s about time for you to go now. I’m expecting a guest.”

Harry was a little startled by the change in topic, “What? Who?”

“My dear Albus, of course.” Gellert replied darkly, without any hint of a smile. “Surely you didn’t think he wouldn’t be coming? He’s been neglecting me terribly but I made sure to disrupt his wards when I removed the bars of my cell. _That_ he simply cannot ignore.”

“Uh, shouldn’t you run?” Harry questioned, slightly alarmed. “If you aren’t strong enough to face him, you’ll end up back on that stone slab again or worse.”

Harry wasn’t sure whose side he was on anymore but he knew he didn’t want Gellert dead. Gellert said, “Actually, I’ve been syphoning magic from you and converting it into my own. I’ve also eaten plenty now and I’m feeling significantly restored already. You _really_ shouldn’t worry about me as much as you do, Harry. I’m sincerely surprised you haven’t learned that particular lesson yet…”

“You’ve been doing _what_?!” Harry shouted, slamming his palms down on the table.

Gellert smiled at him and raised his brows innocently, “Hmm?”

Gellert folded his napkin crisply and set it aside. He rose from his chair and walked around the table towards Harry.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about!” Harry shouted at him, working himself into a fit of fury. Gellert’s tricks were seemingly endless. “Damn it, I _knew_ something was going on!”

“Yes, yes, you have _good instincts_ and you should really use them more often than you do. I didn’t expect you to notice what I was doing but you _automatically_ tried to stop me and I was impressed by the resistance you gave me. You have a strong will.”

Harry stood up abruptly, intent on throttling the man. However, Gellert was right beside him now and when Harry stood up it brought them far too close together for Harry’s comfort. He was momentarily daunted but then he straightened his spine and clenched his fists. He was a Gryffindor after all.

“I don’t mean to be rude, Harry, but it’s _really_ time for you to go now. Try to work on some meditation, would you? Establish boundaries for your mind. We’ll talk more later.”

“No!” Harry grabbed the front of Gellert’s robes. “What exactly did you mean before about-”

Gellert lifted his hands and he placed them directly over Harry’s eyes. Gellert did not exert much physical force in that movement but the _magical_ force he exerted was immense. Harry vanished into thin air.

[][][][][]

Gellert set Harry’s chair to rights, smoothed his robes, and turned towards the stairs in time to watch Albus Dumbledore step into view.

Albus froze at the top of the stairs - it was clear to Gellert that his former lover had not truly expected to find him whole and alive. Gellert seized the opportunity and immediately disarmed Albus. The elder wand snapped into his open palm and Gellert grinned fiercely, “Oh, that was _very_ _foolish_ indeed, Albus. You’ve let yourself grow old in body _and_ spirit. You’ve become complacent in many ways but your greatest mistake was when you wrote me off for dead and stopped looking for me in your future.”

Gellert also doubted very much that Albus had been actively practicing Sighted magics. Probably not for a decade or more. Albus had had no _need_ for it. He was more powerful than nearly anyone without even having to try.

“Who freed you, Gellert?” Albus questioned wearily, looking very pained and very old indeed. The familiar sparkle was gone from those familiar blue eyes and there was a hint of real fear. Albus had always been weaker than Gellert and now Gellert had Albus’s wand - the wand Gellert had _gifted_ to Albus so long ago.

“Hm, that is the question isn’t it?” Gellert mocked harshly. “There are really only _two_ options. So was it Tom or was it Harry? What do you _see_ , Albus?”

Albus glared at him, “You know I can’t tell now.”

“Oh I _do_ know that,” Gellert agreed coolly, with thinly veiled contempt.

“I think it is safe to say that you have aligned yourself with Tom.”

Gellert grinned sharply, “Ah yes, the _obvious_ choice! Tom and I have _so much_ in common. You see me in him, don’t you? Does he scare you too, Albus? Untrained though he is?”

Gellert was prowling closer and Albus took a step back, stumbling a little on the stair behind him.

“Gellert, you were going to _destroy_ this world,” Albus answered plaintively. “The things I saw coming… it was a _nightmare_. You were going to make this world into a version of hell. You were lost and I _had_ to stop you, you gave me _no choice_.”

“Why didn’t you just _talk_ to me?” Gellert hissed, his lovely voice dripping venom.

Albus shook his head, with bitterness, “You _wouldn’t_ have given up your grand and diabolical plans for me. _Nothing_ was more important to you than absolute power.”

Gellert scoffed, “You would have been surprised then, because I _would_ have given up _anything_ for you, Albus. You’re so aware of my flaws but so blind to your own.” 

The first trace of doubt flickered in Albus’s blue eyes. Gellert pressed his advantage, speaking rapidly and with passion, “Albus, I was _madly in love_ with you. If you had just _talked_ to me, we could have reached a resolution together that would have made _both_ of us happy. Instead you _betrayed_ me. You decided to kill me and in all these years, you _never_ wavered from that decision. You could have taken off that damnable collar at any time and yet, you never even visited me. Utterly alone! Utterly _forsaken_! Do you think I’m just going to let that go?”

Gellert started to laugh, sounding a little hysterical, “All these years I’ve been thinking about how much I want to kill you but now that you’re finally standing in front of me… I find I can’t bring myself to - even after _everything_ you’ve done to me. It’s so… _pathetic_. I can’t believe I’m standing here right now practically begging you to change your mind about me. As if you’d apologize and I’d forgive you and then we’d be happy together again… it’s beyond ridiculous, it’s _impossible_.”

Albus held up his hands, palms up, “Gellert, I _want_ to understand. I _want_ to talk now. I’m not perfect. I may have made a terrible mistake.”

Gellert fixed his violet eyes on Albus, but his gaze was distant, looking straight through the other man, “You don’t want to talk. You’re only going to try to hurt me again. You can’t surprise me now, Albus, my eyes are wide open and _I’m looking for it_. Just like you should have been looking for _this_.”

“Gellert _no_ -!”

Gellert’s magic peeled the walls from the tower of Nurmengard like a rotten fruit. No two stones were left joined. Gellert and Albus were both enveloped in the falling fortress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter Harry’s friends help him get his head on straight and Gellert goes to see Tom! I’m excited to write it. Can’t you just imagine how Tom and Gellert are going to get along? Harry isn’t the only one who’s been dreaming about Nurmengard.
> 
> Thank you for all of the support! So far AO3 seems like a great community.


	4. Chapter 4

“So,” Ron said, in a strained voice, “You’re telling me you freed _the_ most powerful Dark Lord in wizarding history. Just willy-nilly like. In a dream. But _for real._ ”

“Let’s try to stay calm, Ron,” Hermione admonished tersely. “Harry _knows_ he did wrong, he doesn’t need you shouting at him. I’m sure it took a lot of courage for him to even tell us all this. Try to imagine yourself in his shoes.”

“Yes,” Neville mumbled weakly. “Everyone makes… _mistakes_.”

Neville didn’t sound like he believed it. He looked like he was way out of his depth. He’d only recently become an honorary member of the golden trio. Hermione and Ron had both had _years_ to adjust to Harry’s horrifically abnormal and extraordinary life. They’d come to expect a catastrophe every few months and an death-defying encounter with Voldemort once a year. Neville, well, Neville was still adjusting, but he helped to ground the rest of them and Harry really appreciated that.

“Actually,” Harry interjected quietly, “I don’t think it _was_ a mistake.”

There was a beat of silence. Hermione and Neville stared at Harry with wide, disbelieving eyes. Ron nodded thoughtfully for a moment then smacked Harry outside his head and screamed, “Not a mistake?! Are you kidding me! _Of course_ it was a mistake! Possibly the biggest mistake _ever_! If _anyone_ finds out-!”

“Ronald, shut up!” Hermione snapped in aggravation. “You’re lucky I cast privacy wards or _everyone_ in this library would know now. You’re so _careless_.”

“If you cast privacy wards, why does it _matter_ if I scream at him or not?” Ron demanded, flushing redder than his hair. “Why are you getting irritated with me when he’s the one who’s revived the bloody Dark Lord Supreme! Gellert Grindelwald is _worse_ _than You-Know-Who!”_

“If he’s worse, then why are you okay with saying his name but not Voldemort’s?” Hermione demanded immediately, her own skin turning a heated, mottled sort of pink.

“Shh! Don’t say his name!” Ron insisted. “What is _wrong_ with you?”

“Ronald Weasley, you’re being purposefully dense-”

“Stop! Both of you!” Neville shouted.

The two of them stopped and stared at Neville. Neville seemed surprised that he’d succeeded but then he scowled and said, “Neither of you are helping Harry by fighting with each other. If Harry says it wasn’t a mistake, then I’m going to believe him. He’d know better than any of us. Especially after getting inside of Grindelwald’s mind.”

“Thank you, Neville,” Harry said gratefully, humbled by Neville’s faith in him.

Neville gave him a small smile and nodded. Hermione cast one last scathing look at Ron then seemed to decide to ignore him. She asked Harry, “Did you see the paper this morning? Nurmengard was destroyed.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Harry replied. Then he went on to attempt to summarize Gellert’s relationship with Albus Dumbledore. Harry didn’t go into great detail but he said enough to make his friends look ill.

Hermione, the most empathetic of Harry’s friends, looked especially disturbed. She whispered, “That doesn’t sound like Professor Dumbledore at all. Surely… he _must_ have had very good reasons… but I can’t imagine, really. I haven’t seen Professor Dumbledore all day, now that I think about it. Do you think Grindelwald _killed_ him?”

For some reason, Harry didn’t think so. He didn’t have a specific or rational reason for feeling that way though, so he shrugged and said honestly, “I don’t know.”

Ron dropped his head into his hands, muttering, “ _Merlin_ …”

“Shouldn’t you be able to tell?” Neville questioned. “If you’re actually the sort of seer who can control what you see?”

Hermione perked up, “You’re absolutely right, Neville! Give it a try, Harry!”

Harry sighed, “That’s the thing… I don’t know how and right now I’m more worried about the possibility that I could literally die in one of these dreams. I _have_ to learn Occlumency. It’s more important now than ever.”

“Well, from what I’ve read about Occlumency, meditation is extremely important,” Hermione began thoughtfully. “You _have_ to establish clear mental boundaries, or rather, ‘draw the line between what is you and what is not’. It is the first fundamental principle of Occlumency.”

“That’s what Gellert said I needed to work on,” Harry said despondently. “Slightly better than Snape’s methods of teaching, but still… how do I even start?”

Ron finally lifted his head, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I think Snape was right. You do better when you don’t think.”

Harry glared at Ron and replied sarcastically, “Thanks, Ron, _really_ helpful.”

“No listen,” Ron said. “That’s what Snape’s method and uh, _Grindelwald’s_ method have in common.”

“You know what, it’s really easy for you to say. How about _you_ try not thinking and see how well it works out for you? Oh _wait_ -”

“Will you just shut up and listen?” Ron demanded. “I’m being serious. Grindelwald wants you to meditate and meditation is about clearing your mind, right? Snape used to attack you like he did without explaining anything because he’s a dick-”

“Language, Ronald!” Hermione interrupted shrilly.

Ron pointedly ignored her, raising his voice to talk over her, “- _and because_ he wanted you to react _instinctively!”_

Hermione looked put out but she paused and seemed to think this over, looking as if she couldn’t believe Ron had come up with such an astute deduction. Harry was surprised too. He remembered Gellert saying something similar, in that cryptic way of his.

‘ _You have_ good instincts _and you should really use them more often than you do.’_

Neville spoke then, quietly and with some embarrassment, “Um, my grandmother made me go with her to a spa retreat once.”

Ron snorted. Hermione slapped his arm and gestured impatiently for Neville to continue. She glared at Ron and he glared right back at her. Neville drew in a breath then said, “Meditation isn’t about clearing your mind. It’s about mindfulness. Acknowledging and accepting whatever you happen to be thinking and feeling in the present moment, without reacting to any of it or allowing yourself to get carried away by any of it… Does that make sense? If you practice, it supposedly becomes easier and easier. You’ll be aware of your, ah, _mental boundaries_.”

“Yes!” Hermione cried enthusiastically, latching onto this with her usual fervor. “So let’s all get together at least once per day in the Room of Requirement and practice meditation. One hour to start with, but we’ll work up from there. I’ll read up on meditation but in the meantime, Neville, maybe you could start us off.”

Ron looked panicked, “One _hour_? To _start_ with? When do you expect us to eat or sleep or do homework?”

Hermione slanted a sideways look at him, “I’m not sure why _you_ would be concerned about doing homework when you nearly always have to ask to copy off of me.”

Ron crossed his arms and slumped down in his chair. Hermione shook her head and said regretfully, “It pains me to say it, but this is more important than our homework or studying for the NEWTs. Harry’s _life_ could possibly be at stake. We need to help him learn Occlumency.”

“Maybe then Grindelwald won’t be able to manipulate you _yet again_ the next time you see him, Harry,” Ron couldn’t resist adding. “The sooner you can hold your own against him, the better. I know you have to set the bar low, but you shouldn’t trust him just because he hasn’t tried to kill you yet.”

[][][][][]

“ _Crucio,_ ” Voldemort whispered.

The screams of his Death Eaters echoed in the chamber. Voldemort contemplated their contorted bodies apathetically, wondering why he even kept them alive. They were all members of his inner circle, supposedly the strongest and most capable of all his servants. Yet, _none_ of them could give him the one thing he wanted most - Harry Potter.

How could one seventeen-year-old boy thwart _all_ of his plans?

Albus Dumbledore was a problem too, certainly, and so was the Order of the Phoenix… but in the end, it somehow _always_ came down to Harry Potter. The boy had apparently popped out of nowhere - in the _astronomy tower_ of all places - and stopped Draco, Bellatrix, _and_ Severus from killing a disarmed and weakened Dumbledore.

Voldemort should have expected it, after everything, but still it rankled. Ever since Harry Potter had failed to die that very first time, Voldemort had to swallow defeat after bitter defeat. It was humiliating and infuriating.

Voldemort hadn’t decided yet how to execute Draco but it _was_ going to happen. It would be public and it would be bloody and it would be brutal. Maybe that would provide some much-needed motivation for the rest of them.

Nagini slithered up his body until she was draped over his shoulders. Voldemort stroked her head distractedly. She hissed agitatedly, _**“So noisy. Shall I eat one?”**_

Voldemort considered the suggestion for a moment then replied, _**“Not today, Nagini, my sweet.”**_

He reluctantly ended the torture curse before it could do permanent damage to his servants. They were useless but unfortunately they _were_ the best he had.

“Leave me now,” Voldemort murmured, with obvious disgust.

His Death Eaters got to their feet as quickly as they were able and bowed to him before exiting the room. Their movements were stiff and jerky. Tremors were still evident in their limbs and they had difficulty walking. Voldemort admitted to himself that he had nearly pushed them too far. It would be a few days before they fully recovered. A foolish oversight.

“Ah you are _nasty_ , aren’t you? If this is how you treat _your_ _friends_ …”

Voldemort leapt to his feet and drew his wand, disturbing Nagini. He spun about and found none other than Gellert Grindelwald, in the flesh, leaning against the right side of his throne. Gellert was examining his nails but then he cast an unimpressed look at Voldemort’s wand.

Those eerie purple eyes were even more disconcerting in life and they took in every inch of Voldemort - the wand in his hand, his inhuman features, his formal black robes, and the snake around his shoulders. Gellert looked back at his nails. Voldemort couldn’t shake the feeling that Gellert had taken his measure and found him sorely lacking.

“ _You_ _again_ ,” Voldemort snarled. He felt rage, yes, but also a touch of cold fear in the center of his chest. Every time before now he’d only seen the man in dreams. Now, Gellert was not only free and alive but also standing before Voldemort - in his most secure and secret fortress.

“In the flesh!” Gellert chirped cheerfully, echoing Voldemort’s thoughts just seconds prior. He bit a nail and he grinned at Voldemort.

Voldemort spat out the killing curse. He wasn’t willing to take _any_ chances where Gellert was involved. The elder Dark Lord was an enormous threat to him. How the bloody hell had the man gotten free without Voldemort’s assistance?

The killing curse hit Gellert squarely in the chest and Voldemort relaxed somewhat, watching eagerly as the man stumbled and then dropped to the floor. Nearly a minute of silence passed and then Nagini hissed, _**“May I eat**_ **this** **one** _ **?”**_

Gellert’s body jerked and Voldemort stumbled back half a step. Even Nagini startled and she let out a threatening hiss immediately after, pissed off about being surprised.

The blond man lifted his head, grinning up at Voldemort, “Just kidding! You could at least let me explain why I’ve come before trying to kill me. That’s _rude_ , Tom, I’ve been perfectly civil with you.”

“That is _not_ my name!” Voldemort insisted ferociously, even as he stared in horrified disbelief. Gellert picked himself up off the floor and brushed off his clothes. One un-killable foe was plenty already for Voldemort. He really didn’t need _two_.

Gellert cast him a wry look and dropped down onto Voldemort’s throne, “You have a flare for drama that surpasses even my own. Some constructive criticism though? That new face of yours is too much. You used to have natural charisma and you were handsome too. That was so much more advantageous for you than relying on fear and pain, trust me on that. I liked first-war-you much better. There was still room for improvement then, mind you, but you’ve really only made progress in the _wrong_ _direction_ since then, Tom.” 

“That is _not_ my name!” Voldemort roared thunderously, starting to lose his already shaky grasp on his sanity. “Get off of my throne!”

Gellert ignored him, “Cast even one more spell in my direction and you won’t like what happens to you. I think I’ve been more tolerant than you deserve thus far. Don’t go ruining my good mood, _Tom_. You should be grateful I decided not to embarrass you in front of your ‘Death Eaters’.”

Gellert lifted his hands and used air-quotes for ‘Death Eaters’. His tone implied very strongly that he thought Voldemort’s name for his servants was ridiculous.

Voldemort stood there seething, trying to calm himself enough to evaluate his options rationally. Gellert spun sideways in the throne so he was lounging in it, and he sighed, “You’ve been ignoring me for years. You and I are _long_ overdue for a talk. Isn’t it funny that Harry freed me? I was so sure it would be you. You and I have so much in common but in the end your greed for power was not stronger than your fear. After _years_ of attempting to persuade you to free me… I turned to Harry in desperation. I didn’t think I’d be able to influence him, not after all the time he’d spent firmly under Albus’s thumb… but Harry surprised me. I knew from our first meeting that he would be the one to free me and it happened after only two dreams.”

 _Of course_ Harry Potter had been the one to free Gellert. Voldemort shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, Harry Potter was the source of _all_ his problems.

“He’s so compassionate and he has such a _pure heart_ ,” Gellert carried on wistfully, as if he was infatuated. “He _worries_ about me! Isn’t that just precious? Your Harry is so delectably sweet that I’m tempted to take him from you.”

“My Harry?” Voldemort questioned harshly. “He is _not_ mine.”

Gellert just chuckled, his violet eyes gleaming mischievously as he murmured, “Hm, that sounds familiar.”

“Are you going to tell me why you’re here or are you going to keep me guessing?” Voldemort asked, trying and failing to conceal his growing irritation.

Gellert’s smile fell away slowly and his expression became very serious, “You wouldn’t help me, Tom, but for Harry’s sake I’m going to help you. In the end, I dare say you’ll even be grateful to me. If you behave yourself, I’m going to give you the knowledge you need to be immortal like me. First things first, you need to reverse the damage you’ve done to your poor soul. Your first task will be to collect those Horcrux abominations you willfully created. All of the ones that still exist.”

Voldemort felt cold terror grip him, “What do you mean, all of the ones that still exist?”

Gellert smirked at him unkindly, “Oh, didn’t you know? Harry and Albus have been destroying them. That’s one of the many problems with dividing your soul - you can’t even tell when portions of yourself _die_.”

Voldemort stood frozen, caught up in the paralyzing grip of some terrible and unfamiliar emotion.

Gellert seemed to take pity on him and he continued, “That unfamiliar emotion you’re feeling right now? It’s called _despair_ and you should remember it. Without me, it would have been _inevitable_ for you to lose the war and your life. You’re barely human now and that’s not something to be coveted. You barely feel _anything_ anymore and certainly not any of the most worthwhile emotions, like joy or lust or love. You’re struggling merely to hold onto your sanity. You’ve become weak and vulnerable and you haven’t even had the presence of mind to realize what you’ve lost.” 

Gellert stood from the throne and walked around Voldemort slowly. Voldemort stared unseeingly at his empty throne, struggling against his own despicable emotions. He whispered, “Are you _capable_ of fixing me?”

“Oh yes,” Gellert purred softly in reply. “Indeed I am. I’ll even find the pieces of your soul that have passed beyond the Veil. Together we’ll make you whole and human again. After that, I’m going to teach you everything I know and I’ll also explain to you why _exactly_ I call Harry Potter yours. Then finally, you’re going to help Harry and I burn this world to the ground.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh, seems like Gellert is still set on world domination. What do you think of chapter four? Was it what you expected? Chapter five will be about the end of Voldemort. Gellert is going to make him Tom again. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

"Good  _morning_ , Tom!"

Voldemort jerked upright in bed, wand in hand. Gellert grinned at him and threw open the curtains, letting in the bright sunlight of noon. Voldemort squinted and muttered darkly, "Is that absolutely necessary?"

Gellert paused as if to think about it, "Well, I'm still a  _little_  bitter about you leaving me to rot in Nurmengard, so…  _yes_. Did you not sleep well?"

Gellert waved a hand and banished all of the curtains - including those around Voldemort's bed. Voldemort glared at him and hissed lowly under his breath. Gellert nodded in false sympathy, "Ah, nightmares  _again?_  You look dreadful, really. How much sleep did you get? One,  _maybe_  two hours? Poor monster, we'll set you right soon."

"How did you know I have finished collecting my Horcruxes?"

Voldemort rose from bed, ignoring how Gellert's keen violet eyes appraised his naked form critically. He used his magic to dress himself immediately. Gellert chuckled and said, "Oh don't worry about that."

Gellert was walking around the room as if searching for something. His strange eyes flicked toward Voldemort and he questioned, "I assume you must have them with you but where?"

Voldemort pointed at the ebony chest in the middle of his room. He winced when Gellert carelessly kicked it open. He asked quickly, "What  _exactly_  are you doing?"

"We're going to summon the rest of you and put you back together!" Gellert made a few vague hand-gestures, like throwing a ball and kneading dough.

"Now?" Voldemort demanded incredulously. He cast a scornful, narrow-eyed look at the bright beautiful day outside.

Gellert shrugged, "You'll be in so much pain soon that you won't be able to tell day from night. You won't be worried about the  _ambiance_  then."

Those words made Voldemort pause and stare at the other dark lord. Gellert glanced back at him over his shoulder, smirking at him with a markedly evil sort of anticipation. Voldemort resigned himself for what was to come and questioned, "What do you need me to do?"

"Oh just stand there and look frightening, I'm just about ready."

Gellert was examining each Horcrux in turn and then carelessly tossing them back into the chest after he was done with them. Voldemort narrowed his eyes again, his anger threatening to get the better of him.

"Be  _careful_  with those!" Voldemort snapped harshly.

Gellert grinned at him and said nothing in reply. He reached out to touch Nagini, who had been dozing beside the chest. Gellert gripped her tightly by the base of her head as she hissed and twisted her body wildly. He studied her for a moment then shoved her into the chest and closed the lid on her tail.

Nagini shrieked furiously,  _ **"Let me out so I can devour you!"**_

Voldemort lunged forward to save his familiar. He pulled at the lid of the trunk but it remained firmly shut. He tried to open it with magic, but it still remained shut. He turned to Gellert, infuriated by the man's gall. He spit out fiercely, "Open the chest this instant!"

He hated speaking the words. Voldemort was not a man who ever needed to ask others for anything. He'd always had the power to  _take_  what he wanted. He hated Gellert for being more powerful than him and for lording that power over him in such a petty way.

Never mind that he would have done the same, if their roles had been reversed.

Gellert was ignoring him completely now. He was holding his cupped hands together, as if he had something trapped inside. He was peering between his fingers with an intent expression, like one might look at a bug they'd caught. Flickering light escaped the tiny gap in his hands, like fireflies maybe. The dull light shimmered on his handsome features, in an ethereal sort of way. However, there was nothing delicate or beautiful about the cutting look he abruptly turned on Voldemort.

Voldemort had a moment of acute unease then Gellert shifted whatever was in his hands into one closed fist. His free hand shot out and grabbed Voldemort by the front of his robes, yanking him forward. Gellert then shoved him down onto the floor and leaped on top of him, fast as a cat. His legs pinned Voldemort's arms to his sides.

Voldemort struggled immediately but Gellert's lithe form was stronger than it appeared. Gellert used his free hand to grip Voldemort's jaw in a bruising grip. He wrenched Voldemort's jaw open and slapped his other palm against Voldemort's mouth, covering the slits of his nostrils as well.

Something hot but intangible tickled the roof of Voldemort's mouth and he frantically tried to force it out with his tongue but the sensation dropped down into his throat instead, choking him. He coughed and tried to draw in a breath but he couldn't breathe. He couldn't knock Gellert's hand away and he couldn't even turn his head. He was pinned and…  _wretchedly_   _helpless_.

Gellert grinned at him cruelly, "What you're feeling now? That's panic. Just a little  _taste_  of what you put me through. I won't let you lose consciousness though. I wouldn't want you to miss what's about to happen next."

The tingling sensation was crawling down his throat into his chest now. Voldemort's body jerked and convulsed, desperate to reject the foreign objects and equally desperate for breath. Then the sensation reached his magical core… and Voldemort was certain that he was dying.

Gellert had been right, he wasn't even aware of the time of day now.

Gellert silenced Voldemort before his screaming could alert anyone. He doubted any of the Death Eaters were actually foolish enough to enter their Lord's bedroom without invitation but there was no point in chancing it. He didn't want to be distracted by them.

Gellert moved his hand down a little so Voldemort could breathe through the ugly slits that served as his nose, but he kept his palm firmly over Voldemort's mouth. He pressed his other hand to Voldemort's chest, right over the core of his being.

The tiny factions of soul were waring with each other. They were simultaneously attracted to each other and repelled. Gellert forced the pieces to merge, one after the other. The fragments on their own were significantly weakened but they became stronger by folds every time they joined.

It took hours to force all five pieces back together. Then Gellert had to summon the remaining pieces from beyond the Veil, which took even longer. There were two that he knew of but when they were finally joined with the other pieces, Gellert could sense that Voldemort's soul was  _still_  not whole.

He spent several minutes casting about for the solution. Then, unexpectedly, Harry Potter came to the forefront of his mind and he realized what Voldemort had done to the boy accidentally.

Gellert huffed and cast a contemptuous glance down at Voldemort's repulsive and contorted face. He murmured lowly, "You'd torn yourself into so many pieces by that point that Harry easily overpowered you, even as an infant. It's absolutely pathetic. If I let Harry keep that tiny fragment of your soul then it would be no less than you deserve for killing his parents in cold blood and attempting to end his precious life… However, it seems that your poisonous soul  _does_  cause him some discomfort from time to time.  _What_  to do, what to  _do_ …"

Gellert pondered this issue for several long minutes as Voldemort screamed and writhed beneath him. He dispassionately studied the tears streaking Voldemort's ghastly white skin and he murmured thoughtfully, "Don't you think Harry would prefer more pain now and then no pain later? Carrying around your soul fragment must surely be troublesome for him…"

He worried his lower lip for a moment then nodded decisively, "Yes, I think I can justify it. I will take it from him for that reason."

Gellert tried to take the fragment from Harry gently but he encountered immense resistance. He tried a few different tactics but quickly grew irritated. He muttered under his breath, "Perhaps it's like ripping off a bandage, Harry, my dear. Best done fast?"

He stopped trying to be gentle about it and used considerable force instead.

[][][][][]

Ron, Hermione, Neville and Harry were sitting in the Room of Requirement practicing meditation. The Room had provided them with plush cushions, dim lighting, and loads of burning incense sticks. They'd been at it for about half an hour so far and Ron kept sighing.

Harry opened his eyes and looked at Ron. The redhead had his face scrunched up in concentration and it seemed like he was trying to use his heavy sighs to relax his body. Ron drew in another deep breath and let it out noisily.

Harry turned his gaze to Hermione, anticipating that the end of her patience was drawing near. Sure enough her warm brown eyes snapped open. Harry knew what she was going to do next before she did it. He wasn't sure if it was any special talent on his part or if it was just because he knew Hermione so well. She grabbed one of the heavy books stacked beside her and beat Ron with it, with surprising violence.

"Will. You. Stop. Breathing?!"

Neville startled badly, looking shocked by the abrupt end to whatever tranquility he had managed to find for himself. Ron crab-crawled away from Hermione hastily, his expression affronted and his skin quickly turning red.

"I didn't even do anything this time!" He protested. "I have to  _breathe_ , Hermione!"

Hermione glared at him, "You don't have to be obnoxious about it. You  _know_  what you were doing. You were being  _deliberately_   _divisive_."

Neville held up his hands and tried to restore some semblance of peace, "Hang on right there. Let's all take a deep breath and-"

Harry snorted and muttered, "I think that was the problem, Nev."

Neville and Harry shared an amused look. Neville made an effort to hide his smile and he said slowly, "Maybe… we should start over from the beginning."

Hermione and Ron glared at each other. Their sexual tension was reaching a rather ridiculous level at this point. Harry wasn't sure sometimes if they were about to kiss or about to hex each other. Harry wasn't entirely convinced they were the best match for each other, since their personalities clashed so explosively… but if they dated for a while or even just fooled around then maybe they'd  _all_  get some much-needed peace. He knew it wasn't so simple, with the ongoing war, but he was starting to get tired of the constant fighting.

He was glad he had Neville around to lighten the mood. Hermione and Ron would have probably bothered him much more if he'd been the third-wheel in some twisted love-hate romance. As things stood now, Harry was  _usually_  more amused than exasperated.

"Let's all take a few minutes to reflect on why we're here," Neville prompted soothingly.

That sobered everyone. Harry closed his eyes once more, focusing on his own breathing. It was difficult to relax though because his forehead was starting to hurt. He thought it might be a headache at first but then the pain became familiar. It was radiating out from his scar and slowly becoming more intense.

Harry opened his eyes and nearly pulled his neck looking behind him. For a second he'd been absolutely certain that Gellert was in the room. When he first opened his eyes, he'd thought there had been four people sitting with him rather than three.

The ache in his head subsided and the nagging sensation of Gellert's presence faded too. Harry closed his eyes and struggled to relax. He was becoming paranoid - looking for demons in every shadow and hesitating to turn every corner.

Then pain exploded in Harry's forehead, like a white-hot fire poker had been hurled directly through his face and it was now burning his impaled brain. He fell to the floor, screeching with agony as he instinctively curled into the fetal position and clutched at his face. His hands came away red with blood.

His friends were screaming his name but Harry couldn't hear them over the sound of his own voice. The sound he was making was more animal than human.

"Oh merlin, Harry, your scar is bleeding everywhere!"

"He's- He's in so much pain, what can we do? Hermione, do you know any pain-"

"No, we need help! We have to get him to the hospital wing  _right now!"_

[][][][][]

Tom Riddle woke slowly. His chest hurt and his body was weary. He couldn't remember what he had dreamt about but he was certain that he had suffered nightmares.

He frowned slightly when he realized he was laying on the floor. Had he fallen out of bed?

He pushed himself up slowly and paused when he got a good look at his hands. He slowly lifted them up and stared at them. They were familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. A memory flashed to his mind of long, bone-white fingers. Those hands had been as thin and ugly as spider legs, with ragged yellow nails. The hands of a corpse or a monster maybe. Those were  _not_  his hands.

Tom leapt to his feet, stumbling over the hem of his robes. What was he wearing? There was far too much material and all of it was black.

He didn't recognize the room he was in but there was a mirror hanging on the wall and he went to it, half expecting to see a face other than his own. He stumbled backwards when he saw the reflection of his own eyes. Only, they  _weren't_  his own. They were a shocking ruby red in color rather than dark brown.

He vaguely remembered another face. Gaunt and white, with slitted nostrils in place of a nose and no lips or eyebrows. No hair at all. He ran shaking fingers through his dark and wavy hair then touched his face to make sure it was real.

What the hell had happened to him? What was wrong with his eyes?

Dark and terrible memories flickered in his mind and it felt as if the answer was just beyond his reach. What was the last thing he remembered? He tried to focus but multiple memories came to the forefront of his mind. Multiple locations.

Years spent in the bottom of a watery well within a lightless cave, in a room littered with forgotten junk, and in one of the Gringotts vaults… or had he been slithering across the ground that entire time and swallowing people whole?

He remembered an eternity spent amongst the whispering dead. He had been hated there. He'd killed so many people and it had been a sort of madness listening to them rail at him and cry for their lost lives and the loved ones left behind.

That didn't make any sense. He  _wasn't_  dead. He  _hadn't_  killed all of those people and he'd  _never_  been to any of those places, except maybe the Room of Hidden Things - if that was actually what he was remembering. It wasn't quite the same and there was no way he had stayed in that room for  _years_.

He needed to focus on the more prominent memories. He'd been trying to regain a body? No, he  _had_  a body, so why would he need another?

An image flashed into his mind. Facing down a beautiful, raven-haired child in the Chamber of Secrets, a boy he - what, hated? No, that wasn't right at all.

He knew Harry as well as himself. He  _loved_  Harry. Yes, if he was certain of anything he was certain of that. He chose to focus on that and let the other confusing memories fade back into obscurity for now. He needed to figure out where he was, he needed to change out of these ridiculous robes, and then he needed to go find Harry.

He turned and stopped in his tracks. He wasn't alone. A blond man with violet eyes was laying on the bed watching him.

Gellert Grindelwald.

A slew of unpleasant memories flashed through Tom's mind, making him wince. Gellert sat up and tilted his head curiously to the side as he said, "I have to say, the change in you is remarkable. I wasn't expecting such immediate results."

Tom was in one of his strongholds right now. He had succeeded in making Lord Voldemort a reality but everything had gone terribly wrong, starting with the making of that very first Horcrux. Every subsequent Horcrux had only made it worse, but he'd lost the ability to see what was happening to him.

He was Voldemort and he'd killed Harry's parents and ruined Harry's life. He'd tried to kill Harry, not just once but many times. Had he ever succeeded?

Tom thought he was going to be sick. He whispered, "Is… Is Harry alive?"

Gellert's eyebrows flew upwards and he looked as if he thought he might have misheard Tom. He questioned uncertainly,  _"What?"_

"Harry Potter! Did I hurt him? Did I…  _kill_  him?" Tom tasted bile on his tongue and swallowed hard. He could barely ask the question but he  _needed_  to know the truth.

Gellert's jaw slackened and his full lips parted with shock. He seemed speechless.

"Tell me!" Tom demanded fiercely, blinking quickly against the sudden sting in his eyes.

"He's… fine," Gellert mumbled ineloquently, still staring at Tom as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. "Ah, would you mind explaining to me why you care?"

Tom was nearly overcome with relief but his happiness was short-lived and he frowned at Gellert's question. He replied sharply and without hesitation, "Harry is  _everything_  to me."

"Well, fuck me in the ass," Gellert muttered to himself under his breath. "I wasn't expecting  _that_."

Tom's frown deepened in response to the man's crass language and he decided to ignore him. He went to his wardrobe and began rummaging through it, looking for something other than black, flamboyantly cut robes. He'd been mad for a spell, but apparently that meant he'd lost all sense of taste as well. He gave up on trying to find something practical and summoned his wand to his hand. He transfigured the robes he was wearing into something more in line with what he knew about current trends.

He chose a deep red hue that he knew Harry would appreciate. Maybe it would compliment his new eye color as well. What would Harry think of his unusual eyes?

"Here's what we're going to do, lover boy. You're going to sit down and let me take a peek inside your head to see what the devil is wrong with you. I'm going to  _fix_   _it_  and then we are  _never_  going to speak of this again. Agreed?"

Tom cast Gellert a scornful look, "I am not going to let you perform Legilimency on me."

"I'm already skimming your thoughts. I want to probe a little deeper and it'd be better if you sat down first so-" Gellert paused then shook his head. "You know what, Tom? Never mind, don't listen to me."

Tom was hit by a crushing wave of magic and knocked off his feet. He felt a foreign presence inside of his head and he automatically forced it out. He established his mental boundaries with practiced ease and reinforced his natural defenses.

Gellert relented after a few more seconds and hummed thoughtfully, ignoring the wand that Tom was now pointing in his direction. Tom hissed, "Try that again and I  _will_  kill you."

He suddenly remembered how well that had gone the last time he had tried. He hesitated just a second longer then reluctantly put away his wand and rose to his feet. Gellert smirked at him and commented, "Wise choice."

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Tom asked resentfully.

"Yes, actually," Gellert replied mildly, ignoring Tom's tone. "I'm surprised I didn't puzzle it out before. When you made the mistake of trying to kill Harry, when he was a baby, he killed you instead. At that point in time a tiny fragment of your shredded soul latched onto him. In other words, you accidentally made him a Horcrux and part of you has lived the last seventeen years inside of Harry's head. Consequentially, you are hopelessly in love with him. Your love for him is significantly greater than any hate you ever felt for him so that faction of your personality has become dominant. It makes perfect sense now."

Tom shook his head and turned away, feeling somewhat embarrassed and a great deal conflicted. Now that some time had passed he knew, logically, that Harry did  _not_  feel the same for him. If he went to Harry right now then the younger man would be frightened and would undoubtedly try to kill him in order to protect himself and his friends.

Tom couldn't even blame Harry for it. A few hours ago, part of him had wanted Harry dead and that part of him had been actively working toward that goal. It was  _awful_  but true nonetheless.

How could he possibly make amends for all that he had done? Was forgiveness even a possibility for him?

Gellert finally spoke again, after several minutes of silence, "This is  _good_."

It sounded almost as if he was having to convince himself. Tom turned back to him, wondering what the man was talking about. Gellert was standing a few feet away, with his arms crossed and a slight frown on his face. He was nearly as beautiful as Harry.

Tom felt a sharp stab of irritation when he remembered that Gellert had met Harry recently. Harry had freed Gellert from his prison and Gellert was fond of Harry.  _Overly_   _fond_  of Harry. Suddenly Tom wanted to strike Gellert.

Gellert took a large step backwards, as if reading Tom's mind. Tom checked to ensure that he was still occluding his mind. He was, so he supposed that his expression must have conveyed his secret wishes.

Gellert cleared his throat and continued, "It is good because I will not have to worry about protecting Harry from you in the future. It also saves me the trouble of convincing you that you are meant to love Harry Potter."

"Meant to?" Tom questioned tersely, trying in vain to quell his jealousy. There was something nagging at his mind that bothered him. Something that Gellert had said to him before.

_'Your Harry is so delectably sweet that I'm tempted to take him from you.'_

Tom would find a way to kill Gellert before he ever allowed that to happen. Harry might not want him now or maybe even ever... but Tom wasn't going to stand by and let anyone else have him either. Even  _Gellert_  admitted that Harry belonged to Tom.

"Yes," Gellert replied obliviously. "You are his perfect match, in every way. Just as Albus was mine."

Gellert's bitterness and his use of past tense did not escape Tom's notice. Tom wondered if he might be able to use Albus against Gellert. First things first, he needed to learn everything there was to know about Gellert. He would have to play nice, for now.

"You said you would make me whole then teach me everything you know," Tom said. "So far you've restored my soul and my body… with the notable exception of my eyes."

"I made your pupils normal again but the red color of your irises is a harmless, tasteful touch of drama. It makes you stand out from others and I think that maybe it will serve as a reminder to you, of what you owe me. I still intend to do everything I promised."

"I  _am_  grateful to you," Tom replied convincingly. However, he knew that such favors came at a cost and he was not sure it would be a cost he was willing to pay.

"Hm," Gellert murmured. He paused for slightly too long before smiling at Tom and asking cheerfully, "Shall we begin then?"


End file.
